


Forward Momentum

by misaffection



Category: Death in Paradise
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-27
Updated: 2013-02-27
Packaged: 2017-12-03 19:40:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,194
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/701912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misaffection/pseuds/misaffection
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sort of tag to the last episode of series two.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forward Momentum

During the days Richard was gone, the cabin had been nothing more than a building on the sand, empty and lonely. Camille had hated going, but she’d made a promise to feed the damn lizard, so she’d forced herself down every morning and every night. The silence had been deafening.

She braces as she enters, that habit formed already, but now there is colour and motion and life. He’s still unpacking, ranting about lost luggage to Harry, still dishevelled and sweaty from his flight. It’s easily the best he’s ever looked.

He stops mid-sentence, embarrassment colouring his cheeks, and then gives her a half smile. “You are supposed to knock.”

Camille shrugs and wanders in. There is clutter – not that he’d call it that – whether before the cabin had just been a shell around him. The pieces of England he’s brought back, turning the house into a home. The significance isn’t lost on her.

“So how long will it before you go home?”

Confusion furrows his forehead. “Trying to get rid of me already? Did I do something wrong?”

That serves her right for fishing. “No, I just… wondered.”

“I thought I might stay.”

It’s so offhand, it takes her a moment to process what he’s said. She stares at him. “I beg your pardon?”

“London is grey and cold and the traffic is appalling.” He shrugs and pulls another shirt from his carry on. Camille finally catches on – the lost luggage is more clothing because he’s moving _here_. “And the offices are stuffy. I know the heat here is abysmal, but at least the air is fresh.”

“You’re staying?” She needs to confirm it.

He gives her a look. “Isn’t that what I just said?”

She ducks her head to hide the idiotic smile of delight. “I just didn’t think you would.”

“Eh, the place has gotten to me. I should probably get my head seen to.”

“There’s nothing wrong with your head,” she laughs. Going to his side, she plucks a shirt from the dwindling pile and then nudges him playfully. “I knew you’d come around eventually.”

“Hmm.”

He’s not giving her much, but he has to be tired from the flight. She glances up to find him watching her. Her heart jumps. “I looked after Harry.” It’s the first thing she can think of that doesn’t involve kissing him stupid.

“I’d noticed. Thank you.”

Another silence. She chews at her lip and looks for something else to do. Without the rest of his luggage, there isn’t much moving in he can do and what there is, he’s already taken care of.

Richard coughs. “So… did I miss much?”

She shakes her head. “Not really, just a serial burglar and a coupe of minor indiscretions. You’d have been bored here.”

“I doubt that.”

There’s a meaningful tilt to his voice. She looks up and finds a similar expression on his face. She has to be misreading signals, but he’s never been one for any. She swallows.

“It’s been dull.” _Without you,_ she adds mentally. God, but she has missed him.

“London wasn’t overly exciting,” he says. “Though the tea was better.”

She has to laugh, but she suspects that was what he intended. Especially when his expression brightens at her display of humour. He’s trying. He has no idea what that does to her equilibrium.

“Let me guess, it’s in the lost luggage?” The flicker of irritation is all the confirmation she needs and giggles. She motions and leads him to the kitchenette, opens a cupboard. “Little thing called the internet,” she says in a stage whisper. “You can order almost anything and have it delivered.”

Richard takes the packet out as it he’s handling the Holy Grail. It’s an effort not to laugh in his face, but she somehow manages it. She’d not thought his reaction would be quite so… overwhelmed.

“You,” he says, setting the box down and capturing her hands, “are an angel.”

And with that pronouncement, kisses her full on the mouth.

Camille freezes and he pulls back with a mutter of apology. Her brain catches up and she shakes out of her startled state. Grabs his arm and turns him back. With slow deliberation, she hooks one arm around his neck and steps up closer. She waits for the protest she expects but that doesn’t come. Instead his hands settle on her hips and there is so much hope in his blue eyes…

“Oh shut up,” she sighs and presses her lips to his.

It’s tentative and careful, at least until she leans into him. Then he gives the softest groan of defeat and one arm winds around her waist. He threads fingers into her hair and  there is _nothing_ unsure or shy in the way he teases her lips apart and kisses her with a passion she’d never guessed at.

It leaves her breathless and aching for more. She shoves his jacket off, needing something more personal and less professional. He breaks away, but simply moves to her neck. A whimper escapes her as he finds a sensitive spot and she squirms. Heat pools low and she wonders if she needs to dial back, if he would be able to look at her if they end up where they’re rapidly heading.

It’s him that stops, though he doesn’t let her go. He rests his forehead against hers, the heavy breaths as he attempts to recover warming her face.

“I…”

“If you apologise, I’ll shove that box up where the sun doesn’t shine.”

Richard laughs. “I wasn’t planning on apologising. I’m not sorry.”

Neither is she. She gives him a little shove so she can meet his eyes. “So?”

“I was going to ask you to dinner.”

 _Oh._ “Right.”

“On a date,” he qualifies, colour high on his cheeks.

“Right.” She needs to say something else. “Yes.”

“What?”

“I’d love to come to dinner with you.”

He grins. It makes him look so much younger. “Tomorrow, though – gives my luggage time to catch up and me time to get over the jetlag.”

Camille glares at him. “That’s not an excuse either.”

“No.” He pulls her in, though the touch of his lips is ghosting. “I don’t have an excuse. I kissed you because I wanted to. I have for a while.”

“That’s not been terribly obvious.” She wrinkles her nose at her tone. “Sorry. I didn’t mean that. It’s just… you went and I’d no idea if you were going to come back and… and I’ve missed you.”

“I know.” He tugs her into a hug. It’s shocking comfortable to be held in his arms like this. “Like I know I’m not an easy person to live with, I wouldn’t blame you if–”

She interrupts. “Richard?”

“Hmm?”

“Shut. Up.”

“I was just saying.”

She pinches him. “Don’t. Don’t put yourself down and definitely don’t put words into my mouth.”

“Noted.”

She wriggles free. “Good. Now if you’re all settled in, I’m going home.”

He lets her leave, though she knows he’s watching as she walks down the beach. Good thing he can’t see the huge smile on her face, because she’d never hear the end of it.


End file.
